


Caught Red Handed (7/30)

by haisai_andagii



Series: Relation-Sh*t Tumblr 30 Day Fic Challenge [7]
Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: CapSilver, M/M, captainsilver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 04:50:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3596970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haisai_andagii/pseuds/haisai_andagii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even Steve Rogers needs a little relief.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caught Red Handed (7/30)

Wanda was spending the week with Jean, touring city colleges.  

Clint was on a field mission in Madripoor with SHIELD. 

And, Pietro was visiting Bova. 

And that is how Steve found himself with a perfectly empty mansion.

Finally.

So, he got up early for a run through the park.  He went for a swim in the pool.  He played his favorite records (Yes. Records.) at full volume while he made breakfast and read the paper.

But perfectly empty became perfectly lonely after a day.

Ever the diligent soldier, Steve decided kept himself busy with housework.

"Goddamn it, Clint," he hissed, scooping the final handful of half-decomposed banana peels from under the man's bed.  He scrubbed at the hardwood floors for an hour but the scent of rotten fruit still lingered.

Steve decided to leave Wanda's room alone - mainly, because it was incredibly rude to enter a woman's room without her permission and also because she housed some pretty power magical relics and spell books.

After vacuuming the den and the mopping the kitchen, Steve decided to finish folding laundry in his bedroom.

Steve's hand lingered on the warm cotton in the laundry basket.  He pulled it up, unfurling a pair of Pietro's underwear that read, "Go Dutch" with a picture of a windmill on the seat.

He sighed.  It was a pair he bought for the speedster from a vendor in Harlem as a joke.  Pietro's sour glare as he presented them, flitted through his mind; the speedster's flush cheeks and kiss-swollen lips when he took them off of his slender body later that night has also entered his imagination.

Under the influence of memory and longing, Steve's hands acted on their own as he pressed the warmed cotton against his nose, taking in the lingering sudoric scent.

"God help me..." he muttered to himself, tossing the clothing aside.  He tried his best to finish folding the rest of the laundry.

But his eyes kept wandering.

Steve sighed.  Quickly, he unbuckled his belt and slid his pants and boxers around his ankles.  He kicked them away as he scrambled back on to his bed.  He grabbed the lotion and a picture -Pietro frowning while holding a massive cotton candy during their trip to Cony Island- from his nightstand.

Just as his hand slipped onto his stomach, the bedroom door swung open. 

"Hey, Old Man!" Clint crowed.  "I'm back and Fury wanted to tell you that I- JESUS CHRIST ON A CRACKER!"

Steve grabbed a pillow and it pulled it over his lap.

"Get out!" he bellowed.

Clint slam the door shut; his footfalls pounding down the corridor until they died away.

Steve's head hit the headboard and briefly wondered where he could hide the archer's body.


End file.
